Vets in Love Read online

  He has a chest infection, the second in as many months. ‘I’m going to prescribe him more antibiotics. Does he go to nursery or the toddler group?’

  Ed nods. ‘He has a better social life than I do.’

  ‘It’s pretty common for babies to catch coughs and colds that turn into chest infections. He’s meeting all kinds of bugs that his immune system hasn’t come across before and it takes a while to build up resistance against them.’ I gaze at Ed, hoping he’s reassured by my explanation, but he falls quiet. I don’t know what it is but there’s something different about him since I last saw him with Milo, and I can’t put my finger on it. I’m not psychic, but I can sense from my experience as a doctor when there’s something wrong. ‘You’re all right, are you, Ed?’ I ask again.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with me,’ he says quickly – maybe too quickly. ‘As I said, it’s lack of sleep, that’s all.’

  ‘Hopefully Milo will sleep better once he’s had a couple of days on antibiotics – this one’s banana-flavoured, so he should like it.’

  ‘But it doesn’t taste of bananas, does it? And it isn’t the colour of bananas. In fact, I don’t suppose it’s ever been near a banana.’

  ‘Probably not,’ I say, smiling at his analysis.

  I pause while the prescription emerges from the printer on the desk. I hand it over to Ed. ‘You can take this straight to Bev, the pharmacist up the road. I’d like to see Milo again at the end of the course, or before if you’re at all concerned about his progress.’ Not only will I have another listen to Milo’s chest, I’ll be able to check up on Ed too.

  When we return to reception, Jack the dog is sitting on one of the waiting room chairs sharing a packet of ginger biscuits with Nobby Warwick, elderly church organist and heavy drinker, while Janet looks on.

  Ed whistles between his teeth and the spaniel pricks his ears but remains seated, apparently torn between following his owner’s command and drooling over one last ginger biscuit which Nobby holds within snapping distance of his nose. Jack sits patiently until Ed says, ‘All right. You may have it,’ then he takes it very gently from between Nobby’s trembling fingers.

  ‘Would someone like to tell me what’s going on here?’ Claire comes waltzing in from the nurses’ room where she sees her appointments. ‘What on earth is that doing in here?’ She turns to me at the same time. ‘I thought you of all people would know better than to let that mangy mutt in here. All those germs …’

  ‘He doesn’t have germs,’ Ed says in Jack’s defence as the dog joins him, standing at his feet and looking adoringly up at his master.

  ‘And he doesn’t look mangy to me,’ I join in. In fact, from the expression of pure joy on Nobby’s face, I reckon it’s a shame I can’t prescribe a dog for every patient.

  ‘You’re not a vet, Nicci,’ Claire says.

  ‘No,’ and I don’t know why but an image of Matt Warren enters my mind, which turns out to be a bit of a coincidence.

  Later, when I change into my jodhpurs and go up to the yard to spend my free afternoon with Willow, Matt is there in the stable next to Willow’s with Delphi and Dark Star.

  Delphi is hanging onto Dark Star’s head, keeping him reversed into the corner of the box. Matt, unaware of my presence, is wearing a headlamp and looks more like a miner than a vet as he peers into the depths of the horse’s mouth held open by a metal gag. ‘We’ve had a bit of trouble with Dark Star,’ Delphi says. ‘Matt had to sedate him to do his teeth. You had to give him a double dose, didn’t you?’

  ‘You wouldn’t think so,’ he mutters as the horse leans back into the wall and throws his head right up. ‘Mind yourself, Delphi.’

  ‘Behave!’ Delphi tugs at the end of the lead-rope attached to Dark Star’s head-collar. ‘Sometimes I hate this horse. I’m always having to tell him off.’

  ‘I don’t know why you’ve kept him so long,’ Matt grumbles.

  ‘Because no one else will have him.’ Delphi rubs the horse’s shoulder.

  ‘He isn’t all bad,’ I say.

  ‘Why don’t you ride him then?’ Delphi says abruptly.

  ‘Because Willow’s my priority.’

  ‘And you’re scared of this brute. Everyone is, except me.’ I don’t argue with her because if I’m honest, I’ve seen how Dark Star can behave in the school and I do want to stay in one piece for the rest of the season. ‘He’s six now, and if he doesn’t come right by the end of the summer, I’m going to sell him on. He’ll do a half-decent dressage test on a good day. He’ll make a nice horse for someone, just not for me, which is very disappointing when we bred him ourselves.’ Delphi is referring to herself and her sister – they own a couple of broodmares between them. Her sister and brother-in-law are working overseas, so Delphi is looking after the horses.

  I don’t think Matt is listening to us. All his attention and effort is centred on rasping the horse’s teeth with a long metal implement that looks like something out of a torture chamber. The muscles on his upper arm bulge and swell in rhythm with the strokes of the rasp, but when it catches on the overgrown hooks on the horse’s back teeth, I notice how he winces and bites his lip, taking a breath before starting again.

  Gradually, the sound of metal against tooth becomes less grating as the enamel hooks grow smooth and Dark Star quietens down. Matt drops the rasp in the horse’s water bucket and checks his handiwork.

  ‘That’s all good,’ he pronounces. He loosens the gag and slips the headpiece over the horse’s ears, removing it completely. ‘He’s going to go to sleep now,’ he goes on, rubbing the horse’s face.

  Matt turns towards the stable door.

  ‘Oh, hi,’ he says, noticing me for the first time.

  ‘Hi,’ I say. ‘Where’s the sling?’

  ‘I must have put it down somewhere,’ he says lightly, ‘or used it for polishing my boots. Anyway, I don’t think I could put a sling on without assistance.’

  ‘You could have asked someone to help.’

  ‘Like you, you mean?’ he says quickly. ‘What, and let you stick pins in me?’

  ‘I have steady hands,’ I confirm. ‘I could have been a surgeon, if I’d wanted to.’

  ‘Well, I can’t turn up to a yard in a sling.’ He grins and my heart lurches. ‘Besides, it isn’t a good look.’

  ‘You make a terrible patient,’ I joke, then wish I hadn’t said it in front of Delphi because she picks up on it instantly.

  ‘Do you know each other then?’

  ‘I’m Nicci’s patient,’ he says, as if he’s the only one. ‘She’s caught me out. I’m supposed to be taking time off to rest my shoulder.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ says Delphi. ‘Have you tried some of that nutritional supplement you suggested for the old pony? I swear by it. It’s done wonders for my knee.’

  ‘So, if we trotted you up now, Delphi, you’d be one hundred per cent sound,’ Matt says with a twinkle in his eye. ‘You’re not supposed to take it yourself. It’s designed specifically for equines.’

  She snorts with amusement. ‘I’ve been around them for so awfully long, I feel I can count myself as a horse. If that doesn’t work, there’s always the liniment.’

  ‘The dreaded liniment?’ Matt says. ‘I thought I’d managed to convince everyone around here to leave that well alone.’

  ‘It works though,’ Delphi insists.

  ‘It scalds the skin. I’ve treated more horses for the side effects of liniment than I care to count. Please, tell me you’ve destroyed all your old stock and you aren’t selling it under the counter in the shop any more. The world has moved on.’

  ‘Sometimes the old stuff is the best—’

  ‘No, Delphi. Throw it away,’ Matt cuts in. He looks at me, his eyes flashing with amusement. ‘Why don’t people listen?’

  ‘That’s funny, I have the same problem,’ I point out with a chuckle.

  ‘Well, I have a good excuse for disobeying doctor’s orders. I can’t find anyone else to step in for me. I’m indispensible
.’

  ‘I hope you remember that when you can’t work because you have chronic arthritis.’

  ‘That’s a very harsh prognosis. I have no choice – my partner is on paternity leave for a couple more weeks, so I’ll have to wait. It doesn’t help that our houseman—’

  ‘Mel?’ says Delphi.

  ‘Yes, Mel,’ he says with a sigh of resignation. ‘I don’t know how she managed it, but she broke the electric dental burr so we’re having to do everything manually.’

  ‘I expect you can afford a new one,’ Delphi says.

  ‘A new burr or a new houseman?’ Matt says brightly.

  ‘Will she be moving on soon?’

  ‘In about four months, when her contract runs out. We’ll miss her.’

  I notice that he doesn’t specify that he in particular will miss her. He doesn’t talk about her as if he’s her boyfriend.

  ‘It’s a shame,’ Delphi says. ‘When Honey, the little Shetland pony, was in for her MRI scan, Mel was a great support. I spoke to her twice, three times a day. She was utterly marvellous.’

  Matt changes the subject. ‘Now, what else do you have for me today?’

  ‘Willow’s due her vaccinations,’ Delphi says.

  ‘Nicci’s horse?’ Matt says, looking me up and down, his eyes lingering briefly on my legs, making me glad that I chose my clingiest pair of jodhs.

  ‘Is she due?’ I frown. Sometimes I worry that I’ve let Delphi take over my horse. I should know whether or not her vaccinations are due.

  ‘I told you on Monday that I was booking a visit from the vet.’ Delphi emerges from the stable and picks up a green booklet from the ledge alongside the door. She hands it over to Matt when he’s finished washing his hands under the outside tap.

  ‘Is she well?’ Matt peruses the pages of the passport containing Willow’s ID and record of her annual flu and tetanus jabs.

  ‘Yes, awfully,’ Delphi says. ‘She looks amazing at the moment.’

  ‘You’d better introduce me,’ Matt says.

  She steps forward with a head-collar, but I take it from her.

  ‘It’s all right. I’ll do it. I’m sure you have plenty of other things to do.’ I catch Willow and hold her close to the doorway, but Delphi’s still hovering outside.

  ‘Delphi, I can manage,’ I say sternly, and she reluctantly disappears across the yard to the feed room to start mixing the evening feeds.

  ‘Why aren’t you at work?’ Matt asks.

  ‘I finish early on Fridays. I have a surgery every other Saturday and two late evenings a week,’ I say, wondering why I feel I have to justify my time off to him.

  ‘It’s no wonder I pay so much tax – so that GPs can swan about on Friday afternoons.’ I think he’s joking. ‘I bet you don’t even have to do nights.’

  ‘The surgery has an out of hours service.’

  ‘I should have been a doctor – I was up all night with a colic. The horse is in recovery, but I doubt it’s going to make it.’ He glances at his watch. ‘I’ve got the client lined up to come in after work to say their goodbyes.’

  ‘That’s so sad.’

  ‘You win some and lose some,’ he says philosophically. ‘It’s pretty gutting for me and the team when we’ve agonised about putting the horse through major surgery, opted to go for it and then it gives up.’

  I watch how he approaches Willow, how she sniffs at his outstretched hand, her nostrils flaring as she decides that she and Matt can be friends. I smile to myself. I trust Willow’s judgement. If she likes him, he must be all right.

  Matt heads off to his four-by-four and returns with the combined vaccine, needle and syringe. Delphi comes back from the feed room, apparently afraid to miss out on any horsey gossip.

  ‘Where are you going next, Matt?’ she asks.

  ‘To check on a horse with a nasty gash on its leg from some barbed wire. I don’t know why the stuff hasn’t been banned. It’s everywhere, but it keeps me in work,’ he goes on, smiling wryly. ‘Nicci, how’s the poor guy who was having a heart attack, the one who was taken off in the ambulance the other day?’

  ‘He’s doing okay,’ I say, wary about how much I should reveal, but pleased that Matt is concerned. It makes up for his attitude when he first marched into my consulting room, complaining about my running late. It makes him seem more human.

  Matt draws up the vaccine and injects it into Willow’s neck. She doesn’t flinch.

  ‘You’re a brave horse.’ Stroking her, he turns to me. ‘Are you riding at East Hill?’

  ‘Yes, I can’t wait.’ My chest tightens with anticipation tinged with a touch of fear at the thought of galloping Willow around the cross-country course on Saturday. ‘East Hill is my favourite course ever,’ I go on.

  ‘You’re mad.’ Matt’s eyes fix on mine.

  ‘I love it,’ I say lightly.

  Matt’s expression is sober, his tone critical. ‘I will never understand why people risk their lives like that in the name of sport.’

  ‘You’d be out of a job if everyone thought like that,’ I observe.

  ‘That’s true.’ He changes the subject. ‘I’m done here now, so you can go for your ride.’

  ‘Oh no, I won’t take her out tonight. I always give her a couple of days off after she’s had her jab.’

  ‘There’s no need.’ He smiles when I shake my head. ‘But why take any notice of me when I’m just a vet and you’re paying me for my opinion? There doesn’t seem any point in paying for advice you’re planning to ignore, although a lot of people do,’ he goes on with a grin.

  ‘It doesn’t feel right,’ I say adamantly.

  ‘I don’t think you should rely on feelings. I like your horse, by the way.’

  ‘She’s a good sort, isn’t she?’ Delphi cuts in.

  ‘Yep,’ Matt agrees, his eyes on my face and then my legs again. ‘She has great presence and perfect conformation.’ He signs Willow’s passport and hands it over. ‘I’ll see you next weekend.’

  ‘Oh?’ I say, confused.

  ‘At East Hill – I’m the duty vet. Goodbye, Nicci. Delphi, I’ll see you on Monday to check on the pony.’ He glances back as he walks off across the yard to the car park, a grin on his face when he calls out, ‘I’ll make sure I bring my sling with me, Doctor.’

  ‘Matt doesn’t normally pass comment on a horse,’ Delphi says later when we’re drinking cans of diet Coke from the fridge in the tack room.

  ‘I think he was talking about me,’ I say, blushing. ‘He’s a bit of a flirt, isn’t he?’

  ‘If he was a horse, I’d describe him as a nice sort, hard to find. He’s lovely, but he’s very young. I couldn’t believe he was old enough to be a vet when I first met him.’

  ‘He’s about the same age as me.’

  ‘You seem too young to be a doctor.’ Delphi pauses. ‘Matt’s a great vet. We used to have Alex Fox-Gifford and his father from the mixed practice in Talyton, but we had a falling-out and went to Westleigh instead. They aren’t cheap, but you get what you pay for.’

  ‘I don’t mind how much it costs,’ I say. ‘I want the best for Willow.’

  I want the best for my mum too, and I spend the rest of the evening, having showered and eaten, half reading a book and half waiting for her texts. I’m like a mother fretting about her teenage daughter, which is ironic, considering that’s how she used to be with me, except that fourteen or fifteen years ago I didn’t have a mobile phone. I can now understand how anxious she must have felt, and I can also see that she must have been worried sick over my sister when she disappeared at sixteen, running away with a man twice her age.

  She texts me three times in total, the final one at midnight, saying ‘Home safely, lol Mumx Ring me if you are awake.’

  I smile to myself. She wants to tell me all about it, so it was either a complete disaster or a raving success. I call her.

  ‘Did you get my texts?’ she says.

  ‘Of course I did, thank you.’

  ‘It wo
uld have been quicker to phone you each time – I’m all fingers and thumbs when I’m texting – but I thought that would be just too embarrassing.’

  ‘It would help if you used proper text-speak, not your archaic version. How many times have I told you “lol” means “laugh out loud”, not “lots of love”? Oh, never mind. How was the date?’

  ‘He’s lovely,’ she says with a giggle. ‘He has a tan – a natural one – and he looks more like Roger Moore as 007 than an Oompa-Loompa.’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ I say lightly. ‘Does he drive an Aston Martin?’

  ‘Um, no …’

  ‘Are you going to enlighten me?’ I say, sensing that she’s holding something back. ‘Let me guess, he’s a farmer so he turned up at the pub in his tractor or his combine harvester?’

  ‘It’s better than that, darling. He arrived with a pony and trap – he’s broken the pony to drive quite recently and added lights and reflectors to the harness and cart. It’s wonderful.’

  ‘What did he do with the pony?’

  ‘He unhitched her from the trap and tethered her on the verge outside the pub. She’s a chunky little black cob called Beauty with the longest mane and thickest tail you’ve ever seen, the polar opposite of Willow. Everyone loves her.’

  ‘I suppose it’s one way to cut back on the cost of petrol. Did he pay for the drinks?’ I continue, wanting to know if he’s tight-fisted and only after my mum for her money.

  ‘He paid for everything,’ Mum says sharply, and I apologise for having a suspicious mind. ‘I know he sounds too good to be true, but I think he’s completely genuine, a real country gentleman.’

  ‘Do you have much in common? I mean, did the conversation flow?’

  ‘Nicci, I wish you’d get a life,’ Mum teases, ‘then you wouldn’t have all this time to worry about mine. Now, before you ask, I’m seeing him again.’

  ‘You will text me? Same rules apply.’

  ‘Goodnight, Nicci.’

  ‘Goodnight, Mum.’